


Impossibilities

by Iolre



Series: I'll Keep You By My Side [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Boarding School, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, OctoJohn, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I could make myself small and you could put me in your luggage,” John suggested, shifting so that he slipped back into the cool water with a soft ‘plop’.</p><p>“You can do that?” Sherlock eyed him incredulously. “That’s impossible.”</p><p>“Remember when we first met?” John pointed out. “You told me I didn’t exist. You spent like two months convinced I was a figment of your imagination.”</p><p>“Two months, thirteen days, two hours, and thirty four minutes,” Sherlock said absently, and then the tips of his ears turned crimson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossibilities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> So I wrote this ficlet as a gift for the wonderful [Dreig](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreig) who is my beta and my amazing wonderful internet wifey. :D You should check out her stuff, she's got a cute Mystrade going!
> 
> So this is going to be a series of linked drabbles set in the same OctoJohn universe.
> 
> As usual, you can find me at [my tumblr](http://iolre.tumblr.com) for pretty much anything you want. ;) Updates, previews, rambles, writing-ness.

Sherlock never told anyone why he went down to the shore every day, nor why he insisted on spending as much time possible at their beach house. Mummy didn't question him, she never did. Mycroft gave up after several lines of questioning led to dead ends. Sherlock knew it didn't end there, knew that Mycroft had him followed, but he had years of experience at avoiding followers and lost his tail easily.

He scrambled over the rocks, a picnic basket of sorts held in his hand. Originally the rocks had scared him, but months of climbing their jagged peaks every day had made him far more confident. Today, however, he climbed with a heavy heart. It was his last day at the beach house. Tomorrow he was going to be sent off to a boarding school and would not be able to come back for many months.

Finally he climbed over the last peak, and his face broke out into a wide, unabashed smile as he saw what he sought. Lounging on a rock about fifteen feet away was a blond-haired teenager just about Sherlock's age, maybe a year younger. There was something unusual about this teenager, however - from his waist down, there were no legs - just tentacles. He was practically half an octopus. "John!" Sherlock called, waving as he darted over.

"Sherlock." John's face broke into the same easy smile that Sherlock gave, blatant pleasure at seeing the other teenager coming his way. John slid off of the rock and swam closer to his friend, stopping so that he could pull himself out of the water. He couldn't do it for long, couldn't risk drying out, but it was easier to sit with Sherlock when he was completely out of the water.

John was shorter than Sherlock, a little over five feet, although he insisted on pointing out to Sherlock that he had not reached his full growth. Sherlock, who was well on his way to six feet in height, always smirked and teased the other boy. John would huff and then wrap his tentacles around Sherlock and tickle him until the taller boy begged for mercy between laughs and giggles. Then Sherlock would complain and point out how John had an unfair advantage because he had eight feet and Sherlock only had two.

"You look upset," John said, the smile replaced by a worried frown. He reached out and put a hand on Sherlock's thin arm.

"I leave tomorrow," Sherlock said by way of explanation. He watched John’s face carefully for a reaction, his eyes glancing down at the thin, rough hand on his arm. John was a conundrum, a puzzle that endlessly fascinated Sherlock. For one he was a half-human, half-octopus creature that never should have existed in the first place. He was also extraordinarily fond of Sherlock and all of his eccentricities, putting up with whatever experiment Sherlock wanted to run.

Sometimes, when it was a calm enough day, John would take him swimming. Sherlock had learned how to hold his breath for two minutes and John showed him some of the wonders underneath the water. It was rarely peaceful enough for them to do so, but Sherlock treasured the time immensely.

“For how long?” John asked, breaking into Sherlock’s thoughts. Sherlock scuffed at the rock, a slight scowl on his face.

“At least a year. Probably more.” They lapsed into silence, and Sherlock stared at the ground, unable to bear what he might see on John’s face. They had never been separated so long, never in the five years they had known each other.

“Can I come with you?” John’s voice was quiet, almost tentative, and Sherlock quickly looked up, startled. Out of all the reactions he had speculated, that had never come up. John loved the sea. It was in his blood, it was his home.

“I - I don’t know.”

“You’re stuttering!” John giggled.

“I am not!” Sherlock huffed. He hadn’t stuttered since he was twelve. A childish habit that, at sixteen, he had grown out of. He thought. “You - you’re - you!”

John was clutching onto the rock, he was laughing so hard. Sherlock sat hard on another bit of stone, his thin arms crossed petulantly over his chest and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. Peeking at his friend, Sherlock was surprised to see John watching him with a fond expression. No one looked at him like that, except for John. Everyone else was sharp exasperation, irritation, and even anger.

The little half-Octopus was different. John was all smiles and fond looks, warmth and cool, open oceans. He got exasperated with Sherlock sometimes, but it was always soft-edged and comforting, never jagged and harsh like everyone else treated him. Sherlock craved it, loved spending time with the other boy. It was the only reason he was seriously considering John’s proposition.

“I don’t know how I could take you,” Sherlock admitted in a quiet voice.

“I could make myself small and you could put me in your luggage,” John suggested, shifting so that he slipped back into the cool water with a soft ‘plop’.

“You can do that?” Sherlock eyed him incredulously. “That’s impossible.”

“Remember when we first met?” John pointed out. “You told me I didn’t exist. You spent like two months convinced I was a figment of your imagination.”

“Two months, thirteen days, two hours, and thirty four minutes,” Sherlock said absently, and then the tips of his ears turned crimson.

“Good to see you kept track,” John replied with a grin. Sherlock blinked, surprised, watching as John shrank down until he was just over twenty centimetres tall. He immediately swung over closer to where John was clinging to a rock, extending hand until the small octopus could grasp it with his two hands and swing himself so that he was sitting firmly in Sherlock’s broad hand. It was the first (and possibly the only time?) Sherlock was glad that his hands were so large.

Sherlock lifted the small creature so that John was even with his face. There was a smirk on John’s face, and as Sherlock moved him closer, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s nose. Startled, Sherlock jerked back, although he was careful to not drop John as he moved. Instead he ended up sitting heavily on a jagged rock, wincing as it dug into the flesh of his behind. “What was that for?” he inquired.

“Can we go home now?” John asked eagerly. “I’ve never seen the inside of your house before.” He wrapped his tentacles about Sherlock’s fingers briefly before surging up his arm. Holding still, Sherlock waited until John was settled on his shoulder, a tentacle or two wrapped about his neck and one of John’s hands wrapped in Sherlock’s stray curls.

Sherlock tilted his head the slightest amount to nuzzle at John, returning the small amount of affection shown earlier. John rewarded him with a kiss to his ear, a beaming smile on his face, before he tugged impatiently at Sherlock’s curls. “I can’t stay out of the water forever, you know,” he chided the taller man. “Let’s go!”

Obediently Sherlock went, his little octopus pirate keeping up a running commentary the entire trip.


End file.
